Editorials
Anatomy of a Scare: The Terrifying Scene from Netflix’s ‘Marianne’ We Can’t Stop Thinking About
One of the scariest titles haunting Netflix’s streaming library isn’t a movie, but a French TV series that was canceled after one season. Before Cobweb, director Samuel Bodin delivered pure nightmare fuel with the ultra-creepy French series Marianne.
Marianne followed successful author Emma Larsimon (Victoire Du Bois) as she’s forced to return home to confront her past when the witch that haunts her books and nightmares begins terrorizing her waking life. For the duration of Emma’s writing career, the eponymous witch Marianne enjoyed finding her way to new victims through the books’ pages. With that avenue closed, she physically manifests in Emma’s life to demand the writer continue telling her malevolent exploits. Bodin ensured straight away that the viewer understood just how menacing and utterly frightening this evil witch could be with seriously unnerving scares. Of all the memorable, spine-tingling jolts and goosebumps-inducing moments of dread, there’s one unforgettable scare in episode two that stands above the rest. We can’t get it out of our heads.
In the streaming age of binge TV, series are often designed for easy consumption; one long narrative arc with its chapters broken down into digestible chunks that seamlessly blend into the next. Like comedy, though, horror requires timing precision. It’s tricky enough to craft scares and unsettling atmosphere in a feature-length film, and even trickier in a roughly six-hour series. Meaning horror series are rarely ever scary. Yet, Bodin made it look so effortless. Even more impressive is that he used the binge format as a weapon.
The first five minutes of episode two, “Tradition,” deliver one of the most chilling scares in recent memory. On its own, the episode’s opening scare is enough to warrant sleeping with a night light. It’s rendered even more stunning by the way Boden uses the heightened climax of the previous episode to keep the momentum hurling forward, ramping up the tension to unbearable levels.
The premiere, “Your Dreams,” wastes no time establishing many of the key players, the setup, and the creepy world of Marianne. The oft-unlikable Emma has dragged her beleaguered assistant Camile (Lucie Boujenah) with her on her journey back home. After a series of awkward and flat-out bizarre encounters with the locals, including off-putting Mrs. Daugeron (Mireille Herbstmeyer), the pair wind up at Emma’s parents’ house on the outskirts of town. There’s bad blood between Emma and, well, everyone, making poor Camile all the more uncomfortable in her stay. “Your Dreams” closes with Camile’s unexpected encounter with Emma’s parents in the middle of the night. The final ten minutes end on a thrilling note, leaving your adrenaline soaring.
Camile gets up to go to the restroom, which proves disorienting in such a massive, dimly lit house. She quickly finds she’s not the only one awake– Emma’s parents are wandering the place nude and in a hypnotic daze. Emma’s father attacks Camile, then both parents wander into the woods, setting off the alarm and finally waking Emma. The screen goes black, and the credits kick in just as it delivers a jump scare; Emma’s knocked unconscious by her father. A straightforward yet unsettling scene, heightened by the tension and blaring alarm sirens.
When the second episode begins, you’d think it’d jump ahead to Emma regaining consciousness, giving the viewer room to catch their breath. It doesn’t. Instead, it refocuses back to Camile, now alone in the sprawling home and badly shaken. She works up the nerve to head downstairs, calling out for Emma over the wailing alarm, and notices the back door is wide open. That’s when the alarm stops and the phone rings. Poor Camile makes her way down a dark corridor to answer the phone. Shadows reach for her, and the mise en scène shows just how vulnerable Camile is out in the open; her back is almost always facing dark, empty spaces where something is likely lurking, waiting to strike. When she answers the phone, the rep on the other line from the alarm company should alleviate some of the tension… but it doesn’t.
That reassuring voice attempts to calm Camile before instructing her to close and lock that back door. She does. Then it tells her to look behind her. The house alarm may have ceased its wails, but her inner alarm spikes. The rep’s voice distorts and changes into Mrs. Daugeron’s. She’s there, waiting in the corner for Camile to see her. Her eyes transform, the music spikes, and terror crescendos until Emma shatters the suspense by pounding on the back door.
Bodin draws out one long sequence over the final moments of the first episode into the opening of the next, without reprieve. It’s a series of scares at varying levels of fear. The strange, unnatural behavior of Emma’s parents disorients, exacerbating Camile’s fish-out-of-water anxieties. The parents move in a trancelike state, but give way to sudden bursts of unpredictable aggression. It further keeps us on edge. The setting, full of wide-open yet darkened spaces, is akin to being a small fish in a black sea of circling predators. The evil is closing in, but it’s not entirely clear from where it will strike.
Offering a safety net only to rip it away is a tried and true scare tactic, and Bodin utilizes it well here by dangling comfort in front of Camile in the form of a friendly, authoritative voice on the phone. The meticulous pacing of this scene and Camile’s movements draw out the tension to near panic-inducing levels.
It’s also interesting to note that the entire sequence is centered around Camile, the meek outsider. Straightaway, Emma is presented as an assertive, domineering personality, and one of her favorite hobbies is strong-arming her mild-mannered assistant. This seemingly endless layering of scares begins with Camile waking up in the middle of the night, venturing cautiously out into the strange place she finds herself. It ends when Emma reappears at the back door, finally giving both her and us a chance to calm our increased heart rate.
Bodin stretches out the horror for fifteen minutes, and that’s hardly the only scare that he employs in Marianne. The eight-episode series may have ended too early, but Bodin packs it full of potent spine-chilling terror that makes it perfect for perennial Halloween watches or those simply seeking a good scare.
Editor’s Note: An earlier version of this article was originally published on June 8, 2020.
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
You must be logged in to post a comment.